


Fallen Stars

by Casimir_Rovan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Memory Loss, Soulmates, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 04:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casimir_Rovan/pseuds/Casimir_Rovan
Summary: The Fall took everything they had away: Their names, their light, their purity and everything they held dear. Crowley woke up on the ashy ground, wounded, confused and yet more himself than he ever was. Everything is different and there’s no way back. Lovers were pulled apart, bridges were burned, yet there's this feeling in his guts and a voice that tells him: Don't forget.





	Fallen Stars

**I.**

[POV: Crowley]

_Don’t forget. Don’t forget._

He was laying on the ground, facing the sky with wide eyes. An erratically beating heart was hammering against his chest. It felt strange, painful even. This beating, the pulsing of what felt like a scared butterfly trapped behind his ribs, was entirely new… something that certainly wasn’t there before. Stranger however was the sudden urge to breath and the horrifying realization that he couldn’t, as ash and dust filled the lungs of his corporal body. He coughed.

A dozen questions were dancing on his tongue the moment he could open his mouth again.

He had no idea where he was.

Or what had happened.

Or what was happening right now.

Carefully he tried to sit up to answer at least one of these questions, but no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t move. Was he too exhausted, too hurt maybe or did something pin him to the ground on purpose? He couldn’t tell.

On a second thought: Did it truly matter?

He decided that it didn’t, he was too tired to think anyway.

The universe thought otherwise. Obviously, it always did.

Without warning shards of memories – too quickly gone to really progress them - and a mass of voices filled his already stinging head. A choir of whispers to be exact. It was driving him insane.

A desperate wish: Make it stop.

One of those voices - he couldn’t tell if it was his own or someone else’s - told him “_Don’t forget_” over and over again, like a desperate plead, like a mantra, like a prayer. The problem was he couldn’t even recall what he should remember, had he already forgotten it? Also, he couldn’t even say for sure why he was on the ground in the first place. Shouldn’t he be up there? Above the clouds? Bathing in light and covered in millions of stars?

His train of thoughts was quickly interrupted as a wave of pain hit him.

Every fibre of his body trembled. The voices stopped and left him there deaf and motionless. The silence was horrible, he decided. He wanted the voices back.

More honest: He wanted to scream, to sink in painless sleep or just vanish, but instead all he could do was lying there and staring at the sky, while a bright warm light bathed his sore body.

He felt like a fallen star.

Realization, however hesitant: That’s exactly what he was, right?

And that was the moment where it hit him and it hit him hard like a rock, or more like a whole mountain thrown at him with violent force. The rebellion, the lost fight, the judgement. He remembered how he was tried and cast out of heaven – his home - alongside the others.

A fallen star indeed, he mused.

A star that fell in fire and flames, fell down on the earth like a stone just to lay there in the dust, abandoned and left for dead.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling off that there was something else.

_Don’t forget_.

And the voice knew it as well.

With narrowed eyes he tried to concentrate more intensely on the broken pieces of memories and the more he thought about it, the clearer the pictures became. There was a pained cry as his fate was sealed and pictures of an angel trying to hold him close, desperately trying to save him from the judgement.

A faint picture: His eyes were blue and soft, so soft the memory itself nearly broke his soul.

Eventually the angel had to give up. There was no salvation for the fallen and he had to learn it the hard way.

There will never be salvation again. A grim thought, but true nonetheless.

_Don’t forget. Don’t forget. Don’t forget_

And he tried. Tried to remember the face of the one who screamed when he fell, tried to recall his name, but all the memories slowly faded away from him, like smoke, like the black sand beneath him that burned his naked skin. It was a fight he wasn’t meant to win and with gritted teeth he gave in.

He closed his eyes and the pictures were gone as quickly as they came.

As he opened his eyes again, the light of heaven above him faded into black. All that remained was the darkness of the night that stared down at him with unforgiving eyes. Thousands of stars danced there unbound and untethered, while a cold moon shone down on him sad and lonely. He envied all of them.

That was the moment when the child of god who fell on earth and lost its name started crying. As soon as the first tear touched the ground, his ability to hear returned, so sudden it startled him. With newly found strength he moved his hand over the dusty ground, before he pushed himself back on his feet. Ash and dust fell from his slender form at the motion, revealing the blood red hair and the bruised body that what formerly hidden beneath the dirt as he rose from the ground.

His legs were shaking but strong enough to hold him up. He raised a hand to the sky.

Cuts and bleeding wounds were spread all over his body, marking his naked skin. Some bones seemed to be broken.

A moment of hesitation: Bones? He was sure he had no bones before he fell.

His wings felt heavy and burned black feathers fell to the ground as he made a careful step forward. Another wave of pain hit his body, almost hard enough to send him on his knees again, but he couldn’t care less. Scales started to spread on his skin, where gold once his been. They felt cold against his heated skin. It was almost soothing he thought with a hint of a smile, while his golden eyes now reptile-like and scared glanced around.

The ground around him was filled with thousands and thousands of angels that had fallen down just like him, yet he only noticed them now that he was standing. Cries and screams filled the unholy silence that had been there just a moment ago. He pressed his hand to his chest, trying to block the sounds out but with no avail. The crude desperation and helplessness around him made him choke.

The whole scene looked like a battlefield: Burned feathers and blood fed the earth beneath their feet, the smell of iron and brimstone was almost sickening and even the air itself felt heavy and almost too much to bear. It was a nightmare, the first nightmare that ever existed and he was right in the middle of it. He had no tears left to share.

He gazed at two figures quietly talking to each other, foreheads almost touching, hands clasped tight. One had pitch black eyes and seemed to be panicking, the other tried his best to reassure him. The hushed words and soothing gestures seemed to work, as the black-eyed figure calmed visibly down and the eyes of his companion changed their colour from cold blue to a soft purple. They were _close_. Only a blind man wouldn’t get that. So, observing them and this intimate moment felt obviously wrong, yet the redhead couldn’t stop staring at the scene, maybe because he was jealous… there was no way he would admit that though.

He turned his gaze away nonetheless.

A few feet away from him he spotted the six angels that were the first to fall. He couldn’t remember their names, but it didn’t matter he thought, as he watched them clinging to each other in the middle of the crowd and ... cutting off their wings. He froze. His blood turned ice cold as he heard their horrifying screams and the dull noise the wings made as they hit the ashy ground.

The tallest one of the fallen stood by their side, Satan himself, their leader and he was a sight to behold: Horrible, distressing and completely monstrous with cracked skin and sharp claws.

With a wicked smile he crowned himself king in the middle the nightmarish scene and helped the six wingless former seraphim to their feet. Horns adorned his head and dark relentless eyes stared at his most loyal servants. With a wave of his hand he declared them princes that should rule by his side, rule his new kingdom of broken glass and twilight. He named the fallen angels “_demons” _as he climbed on a sharp rock to speak to the weakened crowd, telling them that this wasn’t the end. It was the beginning.

The beginning? He shuddered; his words sounded more like a threat than anything else.

Just a thought, or more like a problem that seemed rather small in comparison to the situation he was currently in but nonetheless worth mentioning: Demons? He hated the sound of the word. It left a sour taste on his tongue.

Actually, on a second thought, it was quite fitting.

The former watcher of heaven and the former angel of light were standing close beside each other, scarred and wounded, as Satan spoke to them. They were too far away from the snake demon – he could get used to the new word – there was no chance to hear what they told each other in hushed whispers.

The angel of light, Lucifer, had been the Almighty’s favourite and maybe therefore the only one allowed to keep his name, while the watcher, former name now vanished into nothingness, named herself Beelzebub.

Her hair was black like the night above them, her skin pale and her cheeks hollow. Her eyes were cold and filled with something that made the redhead shiver, a feeling he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but it made him uncomfortable. Slowly she raised her head to stare at the dark skies above her, every movement elegant despite the circumstances.

A moment went by, then two.

She sank to her knees, defeated.

Observation, maybe just a bitter thought: She had lost someone too.

Even from where he was standing, the snake demon could see the six bleeding wounds on her back. The last remnants of the wings she had lost, wings that were too damaged to ever heal again. Cutting them off was liberating and while she had lost six of them, she gained thousands instead as flies started to gather around her.

The buzzing sounds seemed to comfort her.

It was unsettling.

The redhead glanced to his side almost instinctively to inspect his own wings. They were black and slightly dishevelled, but still there - Neither broken, nor badly injured. Something similar to relief washed over him, while he turned his gaze away.

Absentmindedly he moved through the crowd, listening to Satan’s angry speech. Every word was laced with venom and hatred, no wonder the tall angel fell for his rage.

A pause: but what did he fall for? All he ever did was asking questions.

A wild guess: Was it _doubt_ that tainted him enough to be cast out of heaven?

Another thought, more bitter this time: Was it really _doubt_ if he just wanted answers to questions no one else dared to ask?

He will never know. Maybe he just hung out with the wrong people.

Out of a sudden, a voice flowed through the masses like a storm. It was neither soft nor harsh, it was a whisper and a scream, a reassurance and a firm truth all at once. Everyone seemed to hear it as the voice stated: “I cry for my poor children, but know that everything has a purpose and everyone has a place.”

A nagging voice in his head told him he would never forget these words.

He knew that was true, most likely, and hated the thought.

**II.**

[POV: Gabriel]

The same voice was heard above the moon, above the stars, above the fallen, above the earth. The angels that looked down to their fallen brothers and sisters, their fallen friends, the souls connected to their very being, heard it, as it whispered: “All things are as they should be. Don’t cry for the fallen, for they had no place amongst us.”

The crowd slowly dissolved and soon only the archangels and a few others were left at the abyss, eyes – still widened in horror - fixed on the ground far below them.

No one could tell how long they were already standing there. Time wasn’t invented yet and no one had a mind to count the moments which were passing by.

Michael still had her sword in hands - the very sword that was used to fight Lucifer - and narrowed her eyes. Gabriel stood next to her, purple eyes filled with an emotion that was entirely foreign to him, as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

The gesture wasn’t really meant to be reassuring, just to make him listen.

“There was no way to save her.”, she said with a stern voice, “She was doomed from the start.”

Gabriel didn’t reply.

He continued to stare down while Beelzebub stared up with unseeing eyes. Their looks crossed, but only he could know that, whereas she would never see the light of heaven again, only a darkened sky. Or so he thought at the time and the thought alone was enough to break something within him, as he stood there unmoving, hands clenched and teeth gritted.

He had lost her. She was gone.

It was hard to really believe it and even harder to accept this truth, but the more often he repeated the phrase in his mind the more real it felt. And the more horrible was the realization that there was nothing left to do.

What she didn’t know was that he had foreseen it, seen the revolution even long before Satan had started it, because It was his purpose to foresee the future and act upon it before the damage was done. He had seen the fall, the fire, the flames. He knew it would eventually come to this, yet he had told no one about his vision, hoping it would change the wheel of destiny. It was what he had to do to keep her save, right? Was that wrong?

A firm voice in his head replied: Of course. He lied to the Almighty, he lied to all of heaven, only because she was amongst them.

Still: He did it out of love and wasn’t he a being of love?

A little part of him burned too as the judgement was spoken, yet he didn’t fall alongside her.

To be honest: He felt like he betrayed and abandoned her himself. Maybe she took the fall for both of them, maybe she hated him for it, maybe she was right to do so.

With a tortured expression he closed his eyes, while her desperate cries still echoed in his mind. He swallowed hard.

Aziraphale was standing nearby, eyes still fixated on the earth, searching for something in the mess down there. Gabriel felt a great pity for him, he stayed silent however, not a fibre of his being ready for this kind of conversation. He had nothing soothing to say anyways. Also, he could vividly remember how the angel had tried to save his soulmate from his horrible fate and a little part of him was almost ashamed because he didn’t try the same. All he did was watch until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Did that make him cold hearted or a coward?

He wouldn’t wait for the universe to give him an answer. He didn’t want to hear it anyways.

After a while more by chance than actual intent, Gabriel spotted the redhead moving through the masses and Aziraphale must’ve too, as he visibly tensed and took a sharp breath. All his former stars were gone and dark scales and deep wounds adorned his skin instead. A cold shiver went down the angel’s spine.

Aziraphale held back tears.

Out of a sudden the loud voice reappeared and swirled around them like wind, like a soft wave of light. “You don’t have to suffer, my children. You did nothing wrong.”, the voice told them.

And then without a warning, without hesitation, everything was bathed in soft light. The pain and the sadness vanished, as the Almighty took their memories away. It was an act of mercy. The angels – no matter where they stood - breathed in the light and within a single heartbeat their souls were free once again. Free of regret and remorse. Free of the weight and burden of sadness and grief. The memories on who the fallen were before they fell, lost and gone.

Gabriel blinked. A feeling of serenity flooded his mind, flooded every part of him until there was nothing left but light.

Just a feeling, yet unsure: Something was missing… or someone?

A piece of advice he instantly told himself: You shouldn’t dwell on it. The Almighty had chosen to take the memories for a reason. A reason you mustn’t know, for it is greater than you.

He shot a last look down to the fallen and sighed.

Back to work. The earth wasn’t going to build itself and with the fallen down there it would surely be way more complicated now to finish the project in time.

Feather light once again and untethered like the stars the angels turned their backs, as the night ended and an almost blinding sun rose above the yet unfinished earth.

**III.**

[POV: Crowley]

The demons shielded their eyes from the burning light, as fire filled the empty part of their being.

The red headed demon - more snake than man - pressed a hand to his chest, as he felt something ignite there and liquid fire seemed to fill his veins. It didn’t hurt, it just felt ... strange.

He was nearly swept off his feet, as the earth suddenly started to shake and break and shatter. Satan’s growl echoed through the empty desert of lost souls.

“Time to create a place for our kingdom.”, he proclaimed as he ripped a giant rift in the ground. He had been strong before, yet he seemed even stronger now that he was a demon. It was frightening and made the redhead wonder what he could do now, that he wasn’t able to do before. The rift became a hole and then a burning abyss.

“Follow me.”

Not very inviting, the snake thought.

Satan stepped into the fire and vanished and one by one the princes followed him, until only Beelzebub and Luzifer were missing. Beelzebub was still on the ground, Luzifer stood next to her, not saying a word. His burning red eyes were fixated on the sky just like hers, his skin was badly burned and had a reddish colour. He somehow looked like a human bat. Or more like a hideous version of one.

They remained like that for a moment, before Luzifer stretched a hand out for her to grab and pulled her back to her feet. Together they joined the others to step into the fire themselves.

Finally, the redhead crossed the field and came to a hold just before he entered the fire. He turned around one last time to look above, to the place where he had once belonged to and his heart felt heavy as he realized that this was a goodbye. He took a step forward, ready to jump into the abyss, but something held him back. He blinked.

_Don’t forget._

A flash hit him as suddenly a few pictures flooded his mind, too fast to see them. He blinked again. The last one however was clear.

Blue eyes.

_Don’t forget._

A weak smile spread on his cracked lips.

He won’t. Never in a thousands of years would he ever forget those eyes again.

“I’ll find you.”, he promised to whoever could hear him, “Doesn’t matter whether it’ll take me a night or a thousand years” and with that words on his lips and that promise in his heart he vanished beneath the earth.

**IV.**

The blue-eyed angel heard him clear as day, but he didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t even know who was talking to him in the first place.

The voice seemed familiar though, the sound felt familiar.

He would find out.

Soon enough.


End file.
